Ice Prince
by Crossroadsdeals
Summary: A story about severe body image issues and the dangers of a carefree remark.


_A/N: First of all I'd like to sat that this story is not an act of hate towards the show or any of the characters._

 _I have a lot of respect for the show and what it represents, and that may be the reason why I felt compelled to write this._

 _Secondly I want to apologize if any actions in this story seem out of character (which I'm almost positive of)._

 _I had to stop watching the show after the second episode. But I hope to get back to Yuri on ice later at some point._

* * *

 _Words have power,_

 _even years after they've been uttered._

Yuuri gave a trembling sigh examining his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The fat folds hanging like thick belts around his stomach, the grossly over-sized breasts. The gigantic, lumpy hips, the flabby, jiggling flesh on his arms. Those flushed, round chipmunk-cheeks, and – he turned around, tracing a hand down across his torso stopping at – oh, god… that disgusting massive ass.

It was terrible. He hated himself. The very sight of his body made him want to puke and he turned, bending over the toilet and retching violently.

Nothing came out and he straightened up, hands still clutching the toilet bowl, and turned his face to the mirror again. His skin seemed pasty and pale and his hair hung in a tangled, matted mess before his eyes.

With massive effort, he hoisted himself up and sat down on the toilet seat, burying his face in his hands. He hated himself so much! How had it come to this? He exercised every day and kept careful tabs on his calorie-intake. How could he take so many precautions and still look like this? A silent sob escaped his lips. How could he call himself a pro figure skater with this monstrosity of a body? How would he ever be able to let himself be seen in public alongside his gorgeous fiancé?

Tears formed in his eyes and he peeked through his fingers at the massive knife lying on the counter beside the sink. He'd taken it from the kitchen that morning, while Viktor was busy elsewhere.

Hands trembling uncontrollably, he reached out and grabbed it. It was a ceramic knife from his home country, sleek and black, and very sharp. A gift from his parents when he moved to Russia.

He glanced from the knife down at his disgusting, flabby gut. It was unbearable. He just wanted to destroy it. He wanted it so badly.

Bitter tears streaming down his cheeks, he placed the tip of the knife at his abdomen and sliced.

Thick, red droplets of blood formed on the cut, seeping slowly down his body.

He made another cut just above the first one, driving the knife in a little deeper this time. It stung, but Yuuri couldn't say he really felt the pain.

Blinking tears from his eyes, he watched the blood seep from the cut, mingling with the slowly drying streams from the first one. It felt surprisingly cold against his skin, and he gave an uncontrolled shiver.

Just as he was readying the knife for the third time there was a knock on the door.

"Yuuri, sweetheart?"

Yuuri jumped, looking terrified at the door.

Heart thumping in his chest, he watched as the doorknob turned and the door swung open.

"Honey, have you seen the–" Viktor stopped short at the sight of his fiancé sitting on the toilet, crying and bleeding from his stomach.

Yuuri shrunk under his gaze and clutched the knife a little harder.

"Oh my god, Yuuri!" Viktor exclaimed. "What is… What are you…"

He struggled to find the right words and had to take a moment to breathe. Yuuri sat frozen and said nothing.

In the end Viktor looked over at him again, entering the bathroom, and kneeling before him, carefully taking his hands. His eyes shone with deep concern.

"Yuuri, dear…" he said, his voice barely audible. "What are you doing?"

As he was talking, he gently tugged at Yuuri's tightly shut fist and pulled the knife from his grip, placing it behind himself, out of his fiancé's reach.

Yuuri yanked his hands free of Viktor's grip and placed them before his face as he cried.

"I hate it so much…" he whispered between sobs. For a long time they just sat there. Viktor sat quietly, helplessly watching his beloved shake uncontrollably as he cried on.

In the end he placed a careful hand on his knee.

"Yuuri, look at me." He begged. "What are you talking about? Hate what?"

" _This_!" Yuuri cried, straightening up and throwing down his arms so suddenly Viktor almost fell over. Yuuri drew a trembling breath, as he continued.

"This flabby gut, these giant, lumpy hips! Oh God, these _arms_! I look like a disgusting, fat pig!"

Viktor eyed him shocked.

"Yuuri…" he said. "Sweetheart, what are you talking about? Your body is perfect!"

Yuuri gave a soft snivel, sending Victor a surprisingly spiteful look.

"No it's not." He replied. "It's disgusting and bloated. Not the body of a professional figure skater."

With a silent sob he hid his face in his hands again.

Viktor was at a complete loss.

"What?" he frowned. "Yuuri, who told you that?"

Yuuri peeked up from his hands.

"You did." He said, turning his head away. For a moment Viktor only sat there, trying to remember when he'd ever said something like that to his beloved fiancé. Then it dawned on him.

"But Yuuri, that was years ago!" he exclaimed. "It doesn't matter now! Don't you remember how hard you worked to lose weight back then?"

"Right." Yuuri muttered. "And look how much that helped…"

"It _did_ help!" Viktor exclaimed helplessly. "Look!"

He grabbed Yuuri by the hands and pulled him up, placing him before the mirror.

"Just look at your beautiful self!" he said. "How perfect you are!"

Yuuri eyed his reflection scornfully. Next to his fiancé, all the terrible fatty parts just got amplified by tenfold.

"I don't see it…" he said silently. "All I see is this gross, misshapen heap of disgusting, blubbery fat."

"Yuuri, look at me." Viktor said, putting his hands on his fiancé's cheeks and turning his head so that their eyes met.

"What you see… The way you view yourself. It isn't real. Trust me!" Viktor eyed him desperately, crystalline tears glistening in his eyes. Yuuri held his gaze, a look of utter hopelessness on his face.

"But you said–" he began. Viktor bit his lip hard, a singular teardrop rolling down his cheek.

"Forget what I said!" he exclaimed. "It was wrong! I didn't mean it! You're perfect, Yuuri! Perfect! So please…"

He sighed, eyes seeking the knife on the floor between them, before pausing briefely at the two cuts on Yuuri's stomach. More tears were joining the first one on their way down his cheeks. He looked back up at Yuuri again.

"Please, Yuuri…" he whispered, gently caressing his fiancé's tender, silky cheek.

"You're beautiful. Don't do this."

Yuuri gave a shaky sigh, looking down. He wanted so badly to believe what Viktor said. To tell himself that what Viktor told him was the truth, and what he himself saw a was the lie.

But one glance in the mirror, shattered that hope immediately and he gave a resentful wail, fiercely lashing out towards the reflective surface.

"Yuuri, _stop_!" Viktor dove towards him, firmly locking his arms around Yuuri's violently thrashing body as he tried to get at his reflection in the mirror. Viktor pulled him back, and they both hit the wall, sliding down along it and settling on the floor.

Yuuri was sobbing hard, his body shaking all over.

"Oh god… I can't… I can't!" he muttered. "I hate it! I hate it so much!"

"Yuuri… Listen to me." Viktor said carefully. "We'll figure this out. Right now let's just head to a hospital and have those wounds looked at, alright?"

He carefully pulled at Yuuri's hands to help him up, but the young man stayed put.

"I can't…" he whispered. "I can't be seen outside with you, I'm so disgusting!"

"No you're not." Viktor said softly. "You're so beautiful it makes my heart flutter!"

"But you told me–"

Viktor's grip around Yuuri's hand tightened and Yuuri looked up in surprise. His fiancé was eyeing him firmly.

"Forget what I said, Yuuri." He said, his voice set. "It was a mistake. I wish I'd never said it."

Yuuri bit his lip and lowered his gaze, snivelling softly.

"Yurio said it too." He said silently.

"Well, Yurio is an ass." Viktor noted firmly. "And so was I, and anyone else who ever mentioned it. Yuuri, please…" he put a hand on Yuuri's cheek and lifted his head so that their eyes met.

"My beautiful, beautiful ice prince. I love you." He gave a soft smile. "I love you no matter what. You and I will get through this, alright?" He gave Yuuri a soft but expectant look.

"Alright." Yuuri muttered in the end, and Viktor's smile widened.

"Good." He said. "Now let's get you to a hospital and have those wounds checked out."

"God, I love you so much!" Yuuri said, brushing his hand across his eyes to dry the tears.

Viktor's eyes lit up.

"I love you too." he said. "Now, give me a kiss and let's head for the hospital." Carefully he got to his feet and pulled Yuuri up alongside him. Neither of them looked at the mirror as they pulled close into a long passionate kiss.

* * *

 _A/N: The way Viktor and Yurio treated Yuuri in the first part of the show is something that struck me deep, on a very personal level. I'll spare you the boring details but I'm sure anyone who's experienced something similar can relate 100% to this._

 _Having someone you love and admire as much as Yuuri admires Viktor point out negative aspects about you in such a blunt manner hurts. It hurts a lot and it never really goes away._

 _Every time you see your reflection in a mirror you can't help seeing these little annoying mistake that you think you have, because someone pointed it out to you somewhere down the road. And for some people it won't be a problem. They'll just brush it off._

 _But for some, and especially those who suffer with low self-esteem and mental illnesses like depression or anxiety, these little errors can turn into a life-consuming problem. Especially if it concerns their weight or figure._


End file.
